


Secrets

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [58]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Kylo tries so hard to accept the hate.





	

He tries to tell himself that it’s not a problem. Why would it be? It’s not like he… needs Hux to like him. He doesn’t. Why would he?

He doesn’t. He doesn’t need Hux to like him. 

They didn’t start off with anything other than an agreement to mutually blow off steam. Kylo hadn’t even understood they were - could you call it ‘flirting’? - circling one another with that kind of intent until something snapped and Hux had ripped into his clothes like a man about to murder him with only his fingertips. Kylo’d come distressingly quickly, Hux had mocked him mercilessly, and shoved him to his knees. 

He hadn’t even let Kylo use his lips or tongue, beating his own climax out all over his mask and telling him how pathetic he was.

Kylo should have realised back then. You couldn’t go from dishonouring someone on their first sexual encounter to anything but bitterness and hate. He should have realised that Hux was incapable of more…

Or. Well. Maybe he had. But he’d underestimated his own lack of self-sufficiency, or practicality. His own… weakness.

The sex had gone from slammed bodies into bulkheads, furious hands and lips, to back in Hux’s quarters.

Hux liked to make him suffer. Kylo didn’t understand why, but he enjoyed the brutality of it. The sheer truth of pain, the loudness of the sensation, and the thought that maybe he gave Hux something he needed, in return. He’d taken every clump of hair nearly wrenched from his scalp, every nail drawn over his skin, every violent, furious thrust into his body. He’d taken a delight in the visceral, and hoped maybe it meant Hux appreciated him, even slightly.

Pathetic. He was. He was as pathetic as the man thought, when he rode his mouth and bruised his throat with his thrusting.

Useless. He was. He was utterly without real merit, other than as a chest to slide against or splatter over. 

Disgusting. Pushed under a boot. Licking in despair, not sure why he had fallen like he had, wishing he could undo it, and knowing he’d be too weak to do it.

Given the time over, he’d crawl in on his hands and knees and beg to be degraded down to his basest parts. 

It’s absolutely horrific. It is. It would be fine if he just got off on it, and found some absolution or reaffirmation in the loathing that washed off him in waves. It would be fine.

But no.

He’s addicted to the moments just after Hux comes. When his body leaves his mind alone, and there’s slowing breaths and softer hands. When his cock goes flaccid inside of him, and it’s only their connection and lethargy that leaves them bound into one another. The hint of something more in the kisses, before Hux pulls out and wipes himself down.

Kylo is pretty sure the longing is only one way, and he’s projecting the rest out of horror at being unwanted. He longs for the thing he’s sure he felt once, or why would he return it?

If it had just been pure, brutish, animal sex… he wouldn’t have fallen in love. But he has. He’s not sure how, but he has. 

When Hux is too tired to fuck him, and they end up just spending time together, the anger is less fierce and it’s almost like being loved. How pathetic that his goalpost is simply an absence of overt hate? And yet it is. Tiny moments of shared discussion when they agree. Bringing him caf and him not noticing, or wondering how it got into his hand. The way his mind feels just before he sleeps.

Kylo craves them. He craves them, and he curls up in his depraved head, making a tiny little nest of his scraps of happiness. He can’t stop himself from wanting them, and so he tries to indulge himself by imagining what he’d want, and getting even more upset that they’re not true.

It’s stupid things. It’s things like waking up and seeing him staring down fondly, with fingers in his hair and a kiss waiting for him. It’s things like walking past and brushing the back of his hand against him, a tiny gesture of caring, a reminder he’s not alone. It’s things like curling up on the couch and not always being forced to the floor. Much as he likes it there, sometimes he kind of just wants to lie against his side, and rest his head on Hux’s shoulder. He wants to laugh with him at things they both find funny. He wants to sleep wrapped in his arms and live and fight for him and eat with him and - and - and - 

Instead, he lets Hux fuck him and pretends it’s love. No. Not love. _Affection_. Fondness. He can’t go as far as love, even if he thinks he’s fallen himself.

It’s crazy, isn’t it? Wanting happiness for someone who thinks you’re weak and ridiculous? Wanting someone who loathes you with their very core, and unable to walk away?

If he had any self-respect, he wouldn’t let Hux jizz over his face. He wouldn’t do everything he could to be a good bedmate. He wouldn’t find little ways to make his day better, and he wouldn’t be such a stupid little whiny bitch that he craved soft touches after sex.

No wonder Hux hates him. He’s absolutely filthy and disgusting. He hangs off every not-mean word, and lives for the slightest revelation of lips to his neck. He should just have accepted the hate-sex for what it was, not turned into some holo romantic tragedy figure. 

He’s such a fucking failure.

He can’t do anything right. He’ll _never_ master the Force, if he can’t even fucking manage his own dick and heart. It’s a wonder the Leader hasn’t had him executed already. 

Right now, Hux has him bent over the desk in his room. They couldn’t wait to get back to his rooms, and Kylo had locked the door with the Force and let his pants be pulled down from his ass. Let fingers bang into him, spreading him furiously for a quick, hard fuck. His hands are splayed and his legs are parted and the shake up his spine won’t go.

_Absolutely disgusting. No one will love you. You’re not loveable. You’re pathetic for even wanting it. What do you think you’re accomplishing? You can’t love. It’s not right. It’s shameful. You’re pathetic for wanting anything more…_

It’s louder, tonight, and for some reason the minute Hux slides his cock home, the tears spill wet and fat onto the desk. He can’t help it, and even the stimulation isn’t enough. He can’t keep it up, and he’s going to fail him in the most abysmal way. If he can’t even let himself be used right, Hux will just throw him out on his ear.

“ _I’m sorry,”_  he says, surrendering at long last to the yawn of grief inside. “I’m sorry.”  


Hux pauses, half way sheathed, and just doesn’t move any more. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I tried not to do it, I did. I’m sorry. I know you hate me for - for - how I feel, but I can’t help it, I… I don’t… I don’t know how to _not_ want you to love me, I tried…”  


“…what… are you talking about?”  


Hux pulls out of him, and Kylo screams in distress, reaching out with his hands and the Force, scratching for him, feeling his hands pinned to his back as Hux steps in without pushing back inside. He can feel Hux’s arousal dimming anyway, so it’s all pointless.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, his chest now a block of ice he can’t thaw. “I tried not to fall in love. I know you hate me for it.”  


Hux lets go, stepping back, and the distance between them hurts even worse than the bitter-sweet pain of before.

“…where did you… why did you think that?”  


Kylo snorts. He grabs for his waistband, wanting to preserve some dignity. He pulls his pants up over his sticky ass, trying not to sob. “You think it loudly enough. I know I’m not what you want. I just… wanted to be halfway enough for you.”

There’s a weird silence, and Kylo stands, preparing to waddle out of the room in utter disgrace. His heart aches inside, and he just wants to stop existing, please and thanks. He’s not expecting a hand around his wrist ( _let me go_ ), or a look of abject terror on Hux’s face.

“You thought I hated _you_ for loving _me_?”  


“That’s how you feel, isn’t it?” Kylo snaps, past the lump in his throat and the TIE-squadron in his ears.  


Hux’s eyes jam tight shut. His lips a thin line, his complexion wan and unhealthy. “Look deeper.”

“Hux…”  


“ _Do it_.”  


He turns, and drags mental fingers over the mess that is Hux’s head right now. He never goes in unless he needs to, or is invited. He can’t remember when (if?) he went into Hux’s mind, and inside it’s like broken crystals and bare feet. Sharp surfaces, ready to cut.

A man, impossibly tall. _You’re worth nothing, boy. You’re a sentimental idiot. There’s no room for that in the Order. You’ll never amount to anything_.

Kylo pulls back in shock, tugging at his hand, and glancing down, then up, when Hux doesn’t let go.

“It’s… not me you hate?” he asks, realisation dawning with an aftertaste of utter _venom_ that someone could do that to his General.  


Hux lets go of him, takes a broken half-step back. “I’m not supposed to… I’m… it’s not _allowed_ …”

“Neither am I,” Kylo says, with all the bravery he can muster. “But I still do.”  


He does. He loves him. Even through all the name-calling, abuse, and rough treatment. In spite of, not because of. 

Maybe he’d seen something real to fall in love with, and that’s why it had hurt him so much. He’d known they could be different, but their fears got between them.

“Kylo…”  


He doesn’t say it. Not in words, not even in his head.

But Kylo knows.

Hux loves him back.

He launches at him with all his strength, grabbing _his_ face in his hands, and smashing him into the wall to kiss him with all the repressed longing he’s been trying to keep down inside. 

He bites at his mouth to make him hurt the way he’s hurt, then licks it better in apology. _I love you I love you I love you_ he thinks, right into his mind, tasting anguish on his tongue and slaking it clean. 

Hands in his hair, wet tears that are - and aren’t - his. Hux shoves him back to the desk, and Kylo goes willingly. He lets Hux pull his pants down, and shove his cock right inside. Legs around his waist, cinching him tighter. Hands on his arms, thoughts in his head. They take it fast and brutal and full of what-if hope. Hux finishes inside him just as Kylo hits his peak and spurts all over his hand, and then they’re stuck together.

Locked. Sweaty. Terrified out of their minds with what’s just happened.

Kylo grabs hold of Hux’s nape. Pulls him in to his neck, demanding kisses.

“I want dates,” he whispers. “I want to hold your hand. I want to sleep in your arms. I want to do all those things people who are normal do, and I want to do them better, because I’m doing them with you.”  


He needs it. He needs _him_. Cliche or not. Corny or not. He just wants to spend time with him, and make him smile. 

“I want it, too,” Hux whispers, though he sounds like the galaxy might break. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know.”  


“You did,” Kylo says. “It just took you long enough.”  


Not that he has any room to speak at all.


End file.
